


'til the stroke of midnight

by woodhouse



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Cinderella Elements, F/M, Halloween, Magic, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-23
Updated: 2016-10-23
Packaged: 2018-08-23 23:48:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8347591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/woodhouse/pseuds/woodhouse
Summary: Everybody knew the Griffins could throw a good party. Octavia is determined to attend her first ball, but Bellamy has no idea how to make her dreams come true when they barely have a penny to their name. Thankfully, things work slightly differently in Arkadia, and Octavia isn't the only Blake who discovers how to have a good time.





	

Octavia saw the flyers in the town market square when they had been out buying bread. They were printed in different types of coloured paper and tied around the wooden pillars supporting various buildings in golden ribbon. It was the talk of the entire town of Arkadia: the Griffins were having their Halloween Ball. Bellamy and Octavia had only been in town for a few months, so used to travelling around village to village. Stable work and accommodation were hard to find these days, and they were just a couple of kids in many adults' eyes. That usually meant they were the first ones out, or, more accurately Bellamy made sure they were out before people started asking too many questions.

Despite this, even they knew about the Griffins and their parties. They hadn't been long in town before they had started hearing the stories: how the family defied definitions of lavish, the best music, the best food, the best people, how you could hear the festivities from a mile away, how far people travelled to attend. Bellamy barely believed half of the stories, especially since most people in town - no matter their status - seemed to have attended at least one of these balls. Their level of delusion is kind of sad, Bellamy thought. He had heard before of people hearing details of stories so much that they thought they were really there. This was probably what had happened to the peasants he had met.

Octavia couldn't stop talking about what gowns the ladies of the town would be wearing, what dances they would get to perform; Bellamy couldn't stop thinking about the entry fee. The ball was open to the whole town, even the surrounding villages, but at two gold pieces per person - there was no way the likes of him and his sister could attend. It was the way of the world. Mostly, Bellamy was fine with his lot in life, but -- He had always found it difficult to deny his little sister anything, and that wasn't easy. It was hard when you wanted to give someone the world but your reality was living together in one room of a farmhouse cooperative, along with others practically as destitute as yourselves.

 

 

When Octavia found him later that evening he was working up a sweat chopping wood for the farmhouse cooperative. He rubbed his hand over his face and sighed when he saw her gingerly approaching. He had an inkling about what she wanted to talk about, and his mind was racing to find bearable ways of letting her down.

"Ew, Bell. You need a bath," she told him as she withdrew her hand from his back. She wiped the sweat off on her skirt. That was the last time she was going to pat him shirtless again.

"Nice to see you too."

Octavia just rolled her eyes and reached into the deep pockets of her skirt and started rummaging until she withdrew her hand and thrust something into his face.

"So, I found this," she said brightly.

She handed him a piece of paper and bounced on her toes a little, eager for him to see. Bellamy took it gently and opened it up. His brows furrowed a little as he examined it.

"Where did you say you found this, O?" he asked her after a while. He was... confused, to say the least.

"It was tacked to the kitchen door. Murphy told me he found it on the front step this morning." Murphy had a room to himself on the top floor of the farmhouse. He had been there for the longest, if Bellamy remembered correctly from their quick tour. He generally kept to himself but seemed to look out for O every now and again, which Bellamy couldn't help but begrudgingly appreciate.

"Huh."

"So what do you think?"

Bellamy looked at the piece of paper closer, as if trying to find some kind of trick. It was a map. A map of Griffin Manor, no less. And - more particularly - a secret entrance at the side of the building, next to what looked like the serving quarters, was circled. Underneath the map was a sentence, written in delicate cursive script. _The door will be open until midnight_.

 

 

"What would we even wear, O?" Bellamy asked her in exasperation when they were back inside. Octavia couldn't stop smirking. She knew she'd got him. If he didn't want to take her, he would have thrown the map away on sight. They were stood in the farmhouse kitchen; it was their turn to cook for everybody else and even though she was supposed to be manning the soup, she couldn't help but walk over to him and give him a one-armed hug. He returned it easily, and then resumed cutting up the carrots in front of him. "It's not like we could turn up in our normal clothes without being noticed."

"Please, Bell. You think the others haven't thought that through?"

"Well?"

"Easy. Raven." Octavia said with confidence, as if that name held all the answers.

Bellamy made a face. " _Who_?"

 

 

Raven, as it turned out, was a witch. (" _I don't like this_ ," had been his immediate reaction to that little nugget of news, but he had been quickly told to shut up from the rest of the cooperative). Apparently, according to Monty and Jasper who shared a room next to Bellamy and Octavia, Raven was "all time" which Bellamy assumed meant something good. Over dinner, everyone - the Blakes excluded - shared stories about how Raven had helped them in one way or another and now it looked like it was going to happen again.

"But we don't know her, we have nothing to pay her," he had told Octavia. She had just rolled her eyes at him.

"You don't have to," Monty filled in for her between mouthfuls of soup. "Not on ball nights."

"What do you mean?" None of this made sense to Bellamy.

"You've seen how the ball is open to everybody, right?" Jasper took over.

Bellamy's scoff seemed to be accurately interpreted by everybody.

"Yeah we know the Griffins ask for payment but - it's more like, if you can afford it, you pay. For the rest of us, Raven is like the unwritten rule." When Bellamy looked even more sceptical than ever, Monty and Jasper seemed to give up explaining.

"We're going to see her tomorrow, Bell," Octavia told him definitively.

 

 

In person, Raven was less ugly than Bellamy was expecting a witch to be. In fact, she was beautiful. Not a wart or swathe of green skin in sight.

He stretched his hand out to shake, not really sure what the proper greeting would be.

"You're uhh, the witch?" he asked.

"Raven's my name, jackass." She looked him up and down while Octavia buried her face in her hands.

"I apologise on behalf of my brother. Trusting people is his least favourite thing."

"Why do you want to help us?" _No point in beating around the bush_ , Bellamy thought.

Raven put her hands up in faux surrender. "Ease off. I'm under strict orders to help anyone who wants to attend the ball tonight do so."

"From who?" Bellamy interrogated.

"That's none of your concern. You can accept my help or leave so the next people can come in. I'm expecting to be busy."

Octavia's glare shut him up. What followed was a whirl of questions and measurements and, Bellamy presumed, some magic. Before he even knew what was happening, Octavia had her hands on two outfits and was kissing Raven on the cheek with glee.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," she squealed, "if there's anything we can do-"

"It's already settled. Don't worry about it. Just have fun. If that's even possible with this one," she added, pointing her thumb towards Bellamy who was still struck with confused silence.

 

 

The rest of the farmhouse had made their way to Raven at some point during the day so by the time that evening fell, all of them were ready in their formal wear. Bellamy couldn't quite say that he felt comfortable in his black tie suit, he felt more like a fraud, but he could get used to it for Octavia's sake. She was stood chatting to Murphy in a midnight blue silk dress, her hair hanging in loose waves down her back. She deserved a night like this.

"Ready to go?" he asked her, coming to stand beside her. He nodded a greeting at Murphy.

The night sky was glittering with bright stars as they set off through the woods. Their pathway had been lit with softly glowing lights. Raven's work, Bellamy supposed. When they reached Griffin Manor, Octavia gasped and grabbed his arm. It was a grand mansion; as large a building as they had ever seen before. Made of cool grey stone, the many windows of its façade glittered in the moonlight. There was a growing din of music from inside and Bellamy could tell his sister was itching to get inside.

If he was surprised to see Raven at the secret door, he tried not to show it.

"What?" she asked. She quirked an eyebrow at him as she kissed the rest of the party on the cheek. "Because witches aren't allowed to have fun too?"

"That's not - what -" Bellamy tried to excuse his expression.

"Jeez, relax would you," she told him as she manhandled him through the door.

It turned out it was a lucky thing to have a witch with them as they tried to gate crash. The map hadn't lied; the door was open for them, but they were all pretty worried about being seen in that part of the building. What if they were seen? Raven linked her arm through Octavia's and told them not to worry. She had it on good authority there wouldn't be many, or any, people around. If there was, she had a charm in her arsenal to make them all go unnoticed.

Jasper was a few paces back and gasped when he overheard. "What? You're going to turn us invisible?" he asked excitedly.

"Not quite. Just fuddle their mind a bit - they'll see us but they won't question why we're there." Bellamy didn't know if he should be impressed or terrified.

 

 

Balls were not exactly Bellamy's style. He saw enough of Octavia's immediate glee not to regret coming exactly, but it wasn't a space built for him to have fun. The ballroom was an intimidating space. All high ceilings and windows for days. The floor was skirted with marble flat enough to slip on, and the hardwood dancefloor in the middle was really no better. A huge fireplace was the centrepiece of one wall, the fire roaring in multi colours. Streams of cobwebs, decorative he hoped, hung from a large crystal chandelier. Cauldrons of different drinks sat along long tables at the back of the room. A band were performing on a plinth at the opposite end of the room, and Bellamy had already lost Octavia in the crowd. In fact, he was the only one of his group hanging back. The room was full of people, dressed immaculately, lost in their own worlds of fun - whether that be conversation or dancing. It was easy to slip out.

Already being in possession of a map had made it pretty easy to find the library. It seemed to be a room far enough away from the action of the ballroom to be a perfect escape.

He was surprised to find that he wasn't the only one who'd had that thought.

When he opened the door and peered inside, his breath caught audibly in his throat. Framed in clear moonlight that was shining through a tall arched window, right in front of him but with her back turned, stood a woman.

She was in a glittering gown of delicate silver; the fabric cut low in a deep curve at the back to show planes of pale skin. Her hair looked almost silver in the light, too, drawn up into a soft bun, leaving her neck bare save for a few wisps that had escaped at the sides. Bellamy could only stare and marvel.

The voice that came from the figure was silky smooth but Bellamy thought he could detect a twinge of tiredness. "I'll be out in a second, just give me a minute-"

"Sorry, I'll just-" Bellamy stuttered and could only draw out more silence when the woman in front of him spun around at the sound of his voice.

"You're not Wells," she told him. Her face schooled itself into one of curiosity.

"I know."

The view for Bellamy was even more astounding now that she had turned around. She was gorgeous; he had to drink her in as if she were an apparition that was about to disappear into thin air. The straps of her gown settled on the edge of her shoulders, exposing her collarbone and accentuating her cleavage. Her _cleavage_. He should probably stop staring at her cleavage, he thought to himself.

"My eyes are up here," she said for him, smirking.

That was really no better for him. When he locked onto them he noticed even in the soft light that they were a piercing blue. Her lips were glazed with shining pink lipstick and he noticed a beauty spot above her lip. He wanted to kiss it. This was dangerous.

"I'm sorry," he tried again. "I was just looking for somewhere... quiet."

Her eyes seemed to melt into understanding. She tilted her head up at him to tell him to come in, he hadn't even really registered he was still stuck in the doorway.

"What's your name?" she asked softly. She started walking towards him, tentatively. The fabric of her gown swayed softly on her way.

"Nothing of consequence," he replied.

The look on her face told him she knew that had been an insufficient answer to her question, but that she wasn't going to push. She looked amused.  _Keep your secrets, then_ , her face seemed to say.

"I'm Clarke," she offered her hand as well as her name in greeting.

Bellamy choked a little. "Clarke _Griffin_?"

He took her hand because one, he wasn't that rude and two, like he could resist. It was slight and elegant in his larger, clumsier one but he didn't want to let go.

"The one and only," she replied, a little sardonically.

"I thought you'd be - shouldn't you be - out dancing with a prince or something?"

"Yeah, probably." She tore her hand out of his and turned around to walk towards the window again. Bellamy couldn't help but follow her; he had no idea what perfume she was wearing but it was intoxicating.

"Sorry-" he started.

She waved a hand at him without meeting his eye. "No, it's not you - just - these nights..." She found a soft looking armchair by the window and plonked herself down. How she could do it and _still_ look graceful, Bellamy didn't know. "They're not really my style."

Bellamy's mouth twisted in a smile. "I know the feeling."

 

 

For someone so terrifically, ridiculously out of his league, Clarke Griffin was surprisingly easy to talk to. Bellamy told her why he was seeking refuge in the library and she did the same. It turned out that as long as she was around to greet guests for the first half an hour and danced at least once, Clarke's parents were fine with her bailing in-and-out on the rest of the night. She told him all about the awkward small talk she'd had to suffer through already that evening. That was where her best friend came in.

"So he's your knight in shining armour then?"

"Try saying that in a less suggestive way why don't you," Clarke smirked. "It's not like that." Bellamy's heart rate hadn't spiked at Clarke's emphasis on the platonic nature of their relationship.

"He helps me make sure I do enough of my duty to not annoy my parents. Helps me to avoid everyone for the rest of the time," Clarke told him.

"Is that something you do a lot of then? Avoiding?"

"If I can help it." Clarke had kicked her shoes off earlier and her bare feet still rested on the windowsill. Bellamy watched her wiggle her toes. She jabbed him in the side playfully.

"Why?" he asked between soft chuckles.

Clarke rolled her eyes. "People are annoying."

Bellamy scoffed in agreement. This girl really was something else.

 

 

Wells came to collect her around an hour later. If he was surprised to find Clarke in company it soon turned teasing, not that Bellamy minded.

"Oh, sorry, am I interrupting?" he raised his eyebrow and directed it at his friend. Clarke cleared her throat and glared at him.

"Not at all," Clarke replied sarcastically. Wells just chuckled and made his way back to the ballroom. She reached for her shoes to find them already in Bellamy's hands.

"May I?" he asked.

Clarke swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. She nodded slightly and let Bellamy's hands come to cup the back of her left calf, raising it slightly to fit her shoe gently on her foot. Bellamy held his breath as he felt how smooth her skin was, dragged his hand softly down to meet her ankle once he had finished with the right leg too.

"Perfect," he said, unable to help the rasp in his voice. He looked up at her. Her eyes were dark.

"Do you want to come and dance?" she asked.

Like he could say no to her. Like he'd ever want to. He nodded and took her hand.

 

 

When they entered the ballroom together, Bellamy couldn't help but look around and wonder whether anybody would come up and punch him for daring to touch the only daughter of the Griffins.

"Relax," she whispered softly to him, tugging on his hand. "No one's even looking."

She was right. The whole ballroom was totally entranced in their own entertainment. He wondered if Octavia was having a good time but as soon as he felt Clarke pressed against him all thoughts of anyone but her burnt straight out of his mind like they were ravaged by wildfire. Clarke had pressed herself flush against his front and draped one arm around his neck. She used her free arm to encourage his to wrap around her, and she only started to sway when she felt Bellamy's arms snake around her waist. Bellamy could feel her smile against his neck as her arm found its way underneath his jacket, hand settling on his warm back.

The music was fast enough for them to swing and sway across the dancefloor, but no so fast that made the fact they were practically glued to each other look conspicuous. Every time they moved, Bellamy got another waft of Clarke's perfume, and he kept ducking his head lower to be closer to her skin.

"You smell so good," he couldn't resist murmuring to her.

Bellamy could feel her fingers winding their way through the curls at the nape of his neck. He couldn't suppress his shiver.

"I don't even know your name," she said softly against his jaw.

Bellamy was about to reply when he froze suddenly in her arms. The first stroke of midnight was ringing in his ears.

"What's wrong?" she murmured into his neck, nuzzling her nose against his hot skin.

"I have to go," he choked out.

"What do you mean?" she asked, but Bellamy had already extricated himself from her arms, and was desperately searching for his sister.

Of course, he thought to himself, Octavia probably wouldn't be as stupid to not keep a track of the time. The time kept striking. _Shit_.

Clarke had started to follow him out of the ballroom. "Wait a minute!" she called out to him.

He looked back at her, panicked lest she follow him to the secret door. He locked eyes with her just as someone stepped in front of her, grabbing her arm. Clarke didn't look alarmed, just annoyed - it was Wells, Bellamy could see. As Clarke found his eyes again, all he could think to do was mouth _I'm sorry_ and turn away.

 

 

Raven and Octavia were waiting for him as the strokes ticked on. Bellamy had to stop himself from barrelling into them as he ran; he didn't look back until he had dragged them both through the door, panting, and heard it lock magically behind him.

"Where were you, Bell?" Octavia punched him in the shoulder. "I was worried sick!"

"Sorry, O," he mumbled. "Sorry." His mind was all over the place. The adrenalin that was coursing through his bloodstream, anxious to get him out on time, was starting to fade and now he was left with - he didn't know what. Regret. Emptiness. Regard.

Raven was looking at him strangely as he ushered them all to rejoin the rest of the group on the woodland path. Back to where they started.

 

 

Bellamy struggled to sleep that night, and the night after, and the night after that... Memories of Clarke refused to fade no matter how stubbornly he tried to forget her. He didn't belong anywhere near her world. It was almost enough to wish he had never met her that night, but then that would be a lie. It was a real fucking nuisance, if you asked him. Who had a right to be that attractive and distracting?

He took out his frustration the best way he knew how. Needless to say the woodcutting station saw plenty of action across those three days, but it wasn't providing as much relief as it normally did whenever he felt this way. Stupid wood.

Sunrise was just starting to peak over the horizon - god, he thought, how long had he been out here? - when he heard a rustling through the trees.

"Who's there?" he asked. He didn't have anything but his axe, but that would be enough to scare away any intruder.

When he glared through the still dark wood, he could just make out a familiar figure emerging. Raven.

"Oh, hi." He set his axe down and wiped his hands down on his flannel shirt. "I hope you're not planning to attack me because I doubt this axe would do much against whatever tricks you can pull out."

Raven emerged more fully from the wood and rolled her eyes. "I'm a witch, Bellamy, not a magician."

He scoffed as if to say, _same thing to me_. "What can I do for you?"

"It's more like what I can do for you." Bellamy didn't really know how to read her expression.

"More favours? You've done enough," he said sincerely. He wasn't bitter enough to regret that evening, even though he couldn't have Clarke in the way he wanted. That evening was one of the best he'd ever had. Raven gave him that opportunity.

"Okay, well, I guess in a way it's a favour for somebody else."

Bellamy raised his eyebrows in question. "Who?"

"Can you not guess?" When all Raven got was a blank expression for a reply, she barked out a laugh. "Come with me, idiot."

 

 

Bellamy followed Raven through the wood to her dwelling. It wasn't like he was going to refuse to do what a crazily powerful witch told him. He didn't know quite what to expect but he stopped dead in his tracks when he saw her sitting on a bench by Raven's gate.

" _Clarke_ ," he whispered. She wasn't wearing a ball gown anymore but that didn't diminish her beauty in his eyes. Her hair, more golden now in the growing sunlight, was down and flowed in gentle waves across her shoulders. Her eyes were even brighter. She wore a simple green dress and Bellamy _could not stop staring_.

"I'll leave you two to it," Raven said, pushing him with surprising strength to stumble closer to her. When Clarke rose he could smell her perfume again. He closed her eyes and breathed her in as best he could from a few paces away.

"What are you doing here?" he asked in awe.

"I should think that were obvious." She stepped closer

"Assume I'm not good with the obvious." Bellamy offered her a soft smile.

"I came here to get something that was owed me."

"Is that so?" His heart was hammering.

"Yes."

"What would that be?"

Clarke closed the space between them in a few steps and pulled him down fiercely, but when she pressed her lips to his they were soft.

"My goodnight's kiss," she whispered. When she pulled away she looked searchingly into his eyes. "Why'd you run, idiot?"

"I was going to get locked in."

"What are you talking about?"

"The secret door. I didn't have a ticket. I didn't know what would happen."

Clarke listened intently, her mouth twisting in amusement the more Bellamy spoke. "So what, you thought you'd be locked in a dungeon or something?"

"Well, no -" Bellamy racked his brains. "I don't know what I thought, but -"

"It's just a side door," Clarke explained gently. "It gets locked at midnight so no one else comes in that early but it's not like that's when you had to leave. There was a perfectly good front door to go home from."

"Oh."

"Yeah. Oh," she said, prodding his cheek. When her lips met his this time it wasn't anything close to soft, it was demanding and rough. Clarke slipped her tongue into his mouth and Bellamy groaned at the slick contact. When they broke away they were panting.

"Bellamy," he breathed, pushing back against her to suck her bottom lip.

"Huh?"

"My name. My name is Bellamy."

Clarke's smile blinded him. She kissed him on the cheek. "Enchanté."

 

 

 

 


End file.
